


The Golden Boy

by savya398



Series: Incomplete HP Alternate Parents [4]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Parents, F/M, Harry Potter is a Malfoy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-19
Updated: 2019-01-19
Packaged: 2019-10-12 18:50:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17473037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/savya398/pseuds/savya398
Summary: After a summer accident lands him in St. Mungos Harry discovers his parents aren't who he believed them to be. He should be happy to find out he has living parents unfortunately they turn out to be the last people he would ever want as parents.





	1. Chapter 1

Healer Luella Smith stared down at the baby in front of her. She shouldn’t even be contemplating such a thing. It went against every oath that she had taken as a Healer.

The infant was barely a month old by Luella’s estimate, and an innocent. But there was no promise that he would remain that way if the ones he shared blood with were allowed to raise him.

Besides if Luella’s idea was successful she’d be solving two problems.

Lily and James Potter were good people. She had been a few years ahead of them in Hogwarts, and in a different house. But she’d still met them, knew them. They were kind and loving, and stood up to protect others from the dark forces terrorizing their country. Luella admired their strength and courage.

It just didn’t seem fair that such a loving young couple would lose their first baby while Death Eaters would get to keep theirs.

Luella was working all alone in the pediatric and maternity ward that particular night. The rest of the staff had been pulled away for an emergency after a raid on a Death Eater’s house. The St. Mungos staff hadn’t heard which one. They needed all of the available Healers to counter all of the horrifying curses that had been cast upon the Aurors.

Luella hadn’t minded being left alone to tend to the maternity and pediatric wards. There had only been two women in the ward and only one newborn. Alice Longbottom had already given birth to a healthy baby boy the previous day, and Lily Potter’s labor had seemed to be going well. Then the baby was actually born, and it quickly became apparent that there was something horribly wrong with the newborn. Luella had to remove the newborn to another room of the hospital in order to treat him much to the distress of his young parents.

Luella had done everything that she could but nothing she tried worked, and the Potter baby didn’t make it. She had been contemplating how she was going to tell the Potters when a bloody Auror in robes that stunk like smoke burst in to shove a wailing baby at Luella.

The panicked Auror had given her a quick description of events. Aurors had found the baby in the Death Eater home they had raided. They had no idea who the baby was, and a quick test proved that the baby wasn’t registered in the St. Mungos’s registry. It simply meant the infant hadn’t been born in St. Mungos or been taken to the hospital since his birth. It wasn’t completely uncommon for the older pureblood families to forgo St. Mungos, thinking themselves better than the wizarding hospital, and instead employing their own private Healers. They would have to send for records from the Ministry or even Gringotts if the child’s Death Eater parents hadn’t deigned to register their child with the Ministry.

It was sitting in the room with two infants, one alive and one dead, that Luella had gotten the idea.

The more she tried to ignore the idea the more she realized how much it could actually work, and how many problems it would solve. She had lost so many friends and family to this war. Working as a Healer had given her an up close and personal look at the damage that was caused by these Death Eaters. All of the unnecessary death and destruction sickened her. If she could stop another child growing up to become a loyal muggle-hating, follower of You-Know-Who then she would.

It was easy enough to slip down into the old potion storage rooms where they kept the illegal potions and their antidotes for emergencies. Even if they were illegal wizards and witches still made them, and inevitably they would end up hurting themselves or others in the process. St. Mungos was one of the few places permitted to legitimately store illegal potions. The hospital kept the potions for research purposes. It was also important to have them in order to train their Healers to identify the effects and appearances of the potions. Luella, as a Healer of St. Mungos, was allowed access to the potions.

Unlawful blood adoption cases cropped every couple of years or so, and it was important that the healers be able to recognize what the potion looked like both in and out of a child’s blood so that the effects could be reversed.

Luella took one of the vials of the Familia Sanguini Potion. No one would even notice it missing. Things had been far too chaotic in the last year for the staff to be keeping meticulous records. She accessed blood samples that had been kept on record in St. Mungos for Lily and James Potter from their previous visits. Three drops of blood from each of the new parents were added to the potion in order to complete it. Once the potion turned the proper deep plum color, Luella fed it to the infant. 

She felt a pang of guilt as he watched the baby’s transformation take place. But she comforted herself that she was doing the right thing. Luella was saving this child from becoming a murderer like his parents most likely were, and she was saving a wonderful young couple from the awful heartache of losing their first child.

With the process complete she scooped up the child, and brought him to the Potter’s delivery room. The child was older than a newborn but Luella was certain the Potters wouldn’t notice the difference. They hadn’t gotten a good look of the infant before she had taken the baby away. Besides, this would be their first child, and they wouldn’t know what to expect a newborn to look like.

Lily Potter was sobbing her eyes out while her husband was attempting to comfort her despite his own tears.

“Look who I’ve brought to see you,” Luella announced, smiling.

Lily gasped as her eyes landed on the baby.

“Is he…?” James questioned.

“Perfectly fine, just a bit of a scare. He got some fluid in his lungs during the delivery. But he’s perfectly healthy. No need to worry now,” Luella assured as she laid the baby in Lily’s arms.

“Thank you, he’s perfect,” Lily whispered as she cradled the baby close to her chest.

The Potters’ overwhelming happiness, and joy was more than enough proof to her that Luella had done the right thing. They would be good parents. They would love and raise this baby, and teach him right from wrong. Instead of growing up to be a Death Eater with hateful and spiteful ideals, this little boy would grow up into someone kind and intelligent like Lily, and playful and brave like James.

The wizarding world would be a better place because of what she had done.

Nonetheless Luella accepted their thanks, and answered all of the questions they had before leaving them alone with their new son. She returned to her office and filled out all of the proper paperwork. Luella recorded that the unknown child found in the Death Eater raid had perished from the damage sustained from the fire, and Harry James Potter had been born on July 31st1980 with minimal complications.

No one questioned the validity of her reports, and they were quickly filed away to become fact. The hospital and the Ministry itself was in far too much turmoil to spare Aurors and resources to follow up on things like the death of a unknown Death Eater’s child. So there was no autopsy, and the babe was buried without anyone the wiser. Even if there was an inquiry there was no one else who could refute Luella’s own words.

When St. Mungos was attacked a month later, Luella Smith was caught in the crossfire. She didn’t survive, and took her secret to her grave.

No one would discover the truth for many years to come.


	2. Chapter 2

Harry Potter woke slowly.

He came to awareness but kept his eyes firmly shut in an attempt to block out the pain. Every muscle of his body ached.

Harry couldn’t quite remember why he was currently feeling so awful. Harry often found himself in dangerous situations that led him to falling unconscious. He’d grown somewhat accustomed to waking up a little groggy, and in pain. The question was: what had happened to him this time to find himself waking up in pain?

He searched his memories in an attempt to remember what sort of stunt had landed him waking up in pain this time.

In quick, sharp flashes memories rose to the forefront of his mind of the last couple of days.

It had been his first week back at Privet Drive after the end of his third year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The week had passed incredibly slowly with the numerous chores he’d been assigned. Uncle Vernon hadn’t forgotten about Harry blowing up Aunt Marge last summer, and had made sure to load on the chores to keep him busy. He was constantly sore as his body adjusted itself to all of the manual labor. At least the threat of his godfather, Sirius, had kept his relatives from locking him in his room like they had during the summer before his second year.

By the end of his first week his body was feeling the effects of long days out in the sun doing the yard work. He’d been in the backyard raking the small flowerbed when in his tired state he’d gone and tripped over the garden hose. Harry remembered falling backwards, and he felt his head strike something. It must have been the side of wheelbarrow he’d hit. He was fairly certain he must have cried out but he couldn’t quite remember. Harry had completely lost consciousness as soon as he’d struck his head on the side of the wheelbarrow.  

The question was: where was Harry now? The softness beneath him definitely told him he wasn’t lying in the backyard anymore or even on the small thin mattress of his cramped bedroom in Number 4 Privet Drive. He supposed there was only one way to find out.

Harry’s eyes finally shot open.

He was perturbed to find himself in an unfamiliar room. It reminded him a bit of a muggle hospital room. Not that Harry had ever been to one before. But he’d glimpses of representations of hospital rooms on muggle television shows, and this looked similar. The smell of it also reminded him a bit of Hogwarts’ hospital wing, which Harry was very familiar with seeing as how he had been there several times in his three years at Hogwarts.

Harry was lying in a bed with crisp, light blue sheets. They also reminded him of the beds in the hospital wing at Hogwarts. But unlike the hospital wing there were no rows of other beds. His small room was empty. Harry’s bed was the only one inside it. There were some comfortable looking chairs on the other side of the room. Posters like the ones you’d see in a muggle doctor’s office lined the walls for things like dragon pox and vanishing sickness. The posters were also moving like all wizarding pictures do so Harry knew he was in the wizarding world at least.

A small window let in some soft daylight, and a clock proclaimed that it was nearly noon. There were two doors in the room. One was closed, and the other was slightly ajar to reveal a restroom.

Harry pulled himself into a sitting position. He gently reached a hand up to probe the back of his skull. There was a slight twinge but other than that Harry didn’t feel any cuts or stitches from where his head struck the side of the wheelbarrow. Magic really was quite incredible when it came to healing. It was amazing for everything really but it was still quite astonishing just how much magic could heal people.

He’d learned that wizards could even regrow bones in his second after that buffoon Lockhart vanished all of the bones in his arm. He could only imagine the shock the muggles would get over a single potion that could completely regrow the bones in a person’s arm.

As he pulled his hand away from probing the back of his head, Harry’s attention caught and stuck on his right hand. Something was wrong with his hand. Confusion and panic swamped Harry as he brought his hand into his direct line of sight.

The average person didn’t spend a lot of time looking at their hands. But they saw them everyday. They used them everyday. Every person knew what his or her hands looked like.

Harry knew what his hands looked like.

The hands he stared at now did not belong to him. They weren’t tanned a familiar shade of light gold with thin palms and nimble fingers. The hands in front of him were a pale cream with slightly broader palms and had long elegant fingers.

Harry’s gaze warily traveled up his arms, pushing up the sleeves of the blue pajama shirt he was wearing to see that his hands weren’t the only things to have changed. His arms were different as well. Instead of dark hair on tanned skinned, his arms were the same pale color of his hands and were lightly dusted in pale gold hair. Like his fingers his arms were longer than he remembered them being.

But as he looked closer at his arms and hands he discovered something else. The strangest part was that even with the change in skin tone and size of his limbs Harry still retained all of his scars, and hard earned callouses from chores and Quidditch alike.

It was Harry’s body yet it wasn’t at the same time.

His fingers flew to his face causing Harry to realize for the first time that he wasn’t wearing his glasses but he could see perfectly. The lack of glasses yet possessing clear vision was yet another shock. It was just yet another bizarre piece of this ever-increasing puzzle he had experienced since waking up here. The skin of his face even felt different beneath his fingertips. He was able to recognize that the shape of his face was no longer the same.

A sense of urgency shot through him. He needed to see his face. He had to prove to himself that this wasn’t really happening.

Harry scrambled to his feet. However, the moment he attempted to take a step towards the bathroom he fell flat on his face. He hissed as his body was harshly introduced to the floor, jarring his head, and causing it to throb. Harry groaned in pain but he was determined. He had to see his face. He had to prove to himself he was wrong.

Nothing was wrong with him. His face and body hadn’t changed. 

Pulling himself back to his feet was a more difficult task than he had anticipated. Harry kept misjudging the length of his arms and legs, and it made it quite awkward to push himself back up. He’d never felt so uncoordinated in all of his life.

Once he was back on his feet he was a bit more cautious in taking a step. He glanced down at his feet in order to better gage his steps. Someone had dressed Harry in plain blue pajamas, leaving his feet bare, and giving him a clear view of his feet. Like his arms and hands his feet were also different. His toes were shaped differently the arch of his foot was a bit higher. His legs were longer, which made his gait different and made it so difficult to walk. With the changes it almost felt like he had to learn to walk all over again.

Harry barely made it to the bathroom without taking another tumble onto the floor. The light flicked on as soon as he entered the restroom. A mirror was mounted on the wall above a washbasin. Suddenly feeling uncertain Harry approached the mirror with caution, and just a hint of fear. He didn’t know what he expected to find in his reflection. He wasn’t prepared to have his fears confirmed.

In the mirror a stranger stared back at him.

Harry had been average in height with a lean athletic build for his age. The stranger in the mirror was taller, nearly the same height as Ron. His shoulders were broader than Harry’s had been yet he was still lean, not bulky like Crabbe or Goyle.

The stranger’s skin was a smooth cream. The hair was a wild tangle of pale gold curls that framed cheekbones much higher and sharper than the ones Harry was familiar with. He numbly traced the sharply defined jaw and pointed chin, and trailed trembling fingers over the sharp blade of the stranger’s nose. His eyes traced over fuller lips, and teeth that were shaped and positioned differently than what he’d known before. Eventually his inspection drifted up to meet the stranger’s eyes. The color was strange. They were a pale liquid gold.

All in all the stranger was quite handsome, and there was a familiarity to his features that he couldn’t quite place.

However, the moment Harry’s eyes locked with those of the stranger’s in the mirror, Harry knew there was no way he could deceive himself further. He didn’t know how and he didn’t know why but the stranger in the mirror was him.

Harry stumbled back to lean against the wall of the bathroom. He didn’t know what was going on. He didn’t understand how tripping over the garden hose, and hitting his head had led to him waking up in some sort of wizarding hospital room as a different person. Yet he wasn’t a completely different person. All of his scars were still there. It just didn’t make any sense to him.

What had happened to him? How did he get here? Why did he look like someone else?

A light knock sounded at the door followed by a woman’s voice, “Hello, I’m here to—Mr. Potter? Mr. Potter?”

Harry peeked carefully out of the bathroom. An older woman with slightly graying dark hair, and wearing maroon robes was glancing around the room in obvious concern.

A look of relief swept over her features when she spotted Harry peeking out from the bathroom.

“You mustn’t be getting out of bed, dear. You hit your head quite hard,” she quickly came to his side, and began herding him back into bed.

Harry went without protest still reeling slightly from what he had seen in the mirror.

“Ma’am, who are you? Where am I?” Harry questioned.

Harry was momentarily shocked by the fact that even his voice sounded different. It was smoother somehow, and a bit deeper.

“Oh, of course, you must be quite confused, dear. I’m Madame Ives. I’m a mediwitch. You’re in St. Mungos Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. Your aunt brought you in to a muggle hospital as you were unconscious from a nasty head wound,” the woman explained, tucking him back into bed.

“She did?” Harry couldn’t quite believe his Aunt Petunia would have made the effort to actually take him to hospital. Unless, his head wound was really that bad. She wouldn’t want to be responsible for his death either. It would have ruined her reputation with the neighbors after all.

“She did. St. Mungos has alerts for all the local hospitals when a wizard is brought in to a muggle hospital in event that they might have a wizarding illness. We were alerted when she brought you in, and we had one of our agents check in. It was decided to bring you here to heal your head wound. We were able to successfully heal your head injury and now you’re right as rain. Your aunt did choose not to join you here, however,” the mediwitch continued.

Harry’s mind processed this. He wasn’t surprised Aunt Petunia had declined coming with him to the magical hospital. But it was rather nice that he’d been brought to St. Mungos for treatment to his head wound. It still didn’t explain why he had suddenly turned into a blonde haired stranger.

“But why do I look different?” Harry questioned, realizing Madame Ives had avoided that particular subject so far.

The mediwitch glanced away, and Harry instantly sensed her discomfort.

“I’m afraid you’ll have to wait for the Healer to explain the situation to you. I can assure you that there’s nothing wrong with you. You’re perfectly healthy now that your head injury is all healed up.”

“When will I see the healer?” Harry asked, eager to find out what had happened to him.

“I’ll go and fetch him right now for you. We were just waiting for you to wake up. He’ll be able to explain things further,” Madame Ives promised.

“Thank you,” Harry murmured.

“Of course, dear,” she sent him a warm smile before leaving the room.

He remembered Hermione explaining to him just last year that mediwitches, like Madame Pomfrey, were more like muggle nurses, and Healers were the equivalent of muggle doctors.

Harry waited, nerves heightened for the Healer. He couldn’t imagine what the Healer could possibly say to him that could explain why he looked like a completely different person just because he hit his head and had to go to the hospital. Harry had hit his head loads of times before, and it didn’t turn him into an entirely different person.

Harry had only known about the wizarding world for three years now but he did know magic could do things he’d once thought were impossible. Magic was certainly capable of changing someone’s appearance so drastically. He’d seen Professor McGonagall turn into a tabby cat in his very first Transfiguration lesson. In his second year he had been introduced to the abilities of Polyjuice Potion. The potion had the incredible ability to mimic the exact body of another person.

Ron, Hermione, and he had used the form-changing potion to get themselves into the Slytherin common room. Harry very clearly remembered the way his body had felt completely and utterly foreign to him while impersonating Goyle. The way his tongue moved against his teeth. The way his hands felt against his own skin. It was awful feeling like such a stranger in his own skin. At least with the Polyjuice he’d known it would only last an hour.

But this was different from the Polyjuice. This felt more permanent somehow, and unlike the effects of the Polyjuice Potion Harry still possessed all of his familiar scars. Beyond the initial, jarring realization that his body had changed from what he was used to he found himself much more comfortable in his new shape than he had been while taking on Goyle’s form.

Harry didn’t know what that might mean but he didn’t have a lot of time to dwell on his thoughts.

The door to his room opened only a short time after Madame Ives had left. This time a middle age wizard in dark blue robes with sandy blonde hair entered.

“Hello Harry, I’m Healer Redfern,” the man greeted with a professional air about him.

“Hello,” Harry was still startled by the voice that passed his lips.

“I know you must have a lot of questions, Harry,” Healer Redfern stated as he conjured a stool, and sat down at Harry’s bedside.

Harry nodded.

“It is a rather complicated, and I’m afraid I don’t know quite know the entire story just yet. However, I will do my best to explain everything to you, and of course feel free to ask questions if I’m not explaining things properly,” Healer Redfern began.

“I will,” again Harry nodded.

“As Madame Ives informed you, you were brought to St. Mungos after being found unconscious with a head wound by your aunt. How did that happen?” Healer Redfern informed him as he steadily regarded Harry.

“I was working in the backyard. I tripped and hit my head,” Harry answered, feeling more than a little embarrassed over the entire situation. He couldn’t believe he’d been clumsy enough to end up in the hospital for tripping when he had faced dementors and Voldemort.

“Ah, well, do try to be more careful next time,” the healer smiled amicably.

“Right, so why do I look different? What happened to me?” Harry thought he’d been patient long enough. Now, he wanted answers about how he’d turned into a different person.

“You see, Harry, you had lost quite a lot of blood by the time you were brought in. Head wounds often bleed quite profusely but you were lucky that you didn’t have any internal bleeding. You simply needed a blood replenishing potion, and a healing charm for your head wound.

“We administered the blood replenishing potion to you. However, you seemed to have an odd reaction to it. We noticed the potion wasn’t working the way it was supposed to. You were regaining blood yet you were getting weaker. We ran several tests and discovered your body had created two different blood types with two different DNA samples. I’ve personally never seen anything like it.”

Of course he hadn’t, Harry grumbled to himself. Harry always had to be a special case.

“We had to run more tests to discover the source of this problem. When nothing showed itself from the standard tests I got a hunch. I’d read about something similar to your situation happening before when I was studying for my Healer’s mastership. I ran a more obscure blood test, and I found something. Have you ever heard of the Familia Sanguini Potion before, Harry?” Healer Redfern questioned.

“No,” Harry frowned, not sure if he was exactly liking where this conversation was going.

“It’s very a old potion, it was mostly used by old pureblood families who couldn’t have children of their own. The potion completely altered ones genetic make up, not that the old purebloods used such a term. The potion required blood from the adoptive parents, and had to be used before a child’s first birthday. It’s been illegal for quite some time now because of the involvement of blood used in the potion. When administered it will make a child the biological child of the witch and wizard whose blood had been added to the potion.

“Mostly it was illegal because children were stolen for the express purpose of using this potion, and some desperate parents were even going so far as to sell their children. The only way to reverse the effects was the antidote, which was developed when it was realized children were being stolen from their families.

“The antidote must be administered before the child’s seventeenth birthday or the effects would become permanent when the child became an adult and their magic settled. Because of the illegal nature of this potion, and its history it is mandated that if we find a child under the effects of it the antidote must be administered immediately. The hospital still has an entire crate of the antidote in storage as cases do pop up every so often. More often than an illegal potion probably should but I’m a Healer not an Auror so I don’t get involved. The last case we had was just five years ago.”

“I had the Familia Sanguini Potion in my blood, didn’t I?” Harry sighed, it was the only reason why the Healer would have taken the time to explain it all to Harry.

“Yes, Harry, you were under the effects of the potion. That was why the blood-replenishing potion wasn’t working correctly. It was replenishing two different blood types inside of you. I believe there has been one other instance of child under the effects of the Familia Sanguini being administered a blood-replenishing potion, and a similar occurrence happened to them. No one is quite sure why. It’s not something that has occurred very often and therefore no one has closely researched it. In fact there aren’t very many studies into children under the effects of the Familia Sanguis Potion let alone the effect various other potions have on them when introduced before turning seventeen. Perhaps it’s something I might take the time to research myself…”

The healer trailed off looking thoughtful for a moment.

Harry cleared his throat in hopes of regaining the healer’s attention. It achieved the effect that Harry had hoped for and the healer quickly shook himself loose from his thoughts and completed his explanation.

“Once we realized what was wrong we had to follow procedure, and administer the antidote to the Familia Sanguini. Once the antidote was administered we were able to give you another blood-replenishing potion, and this time it worked as should have. We healed the injury to the back of your head. There will be no long lasting effects from the head injury or from the Familia Sanguis Potion. You are completely healed, and in the form you were born in.”

Harry stared at him blankly. He was having a really hard time processing what the healer had just said. But he was fairly certain he had gotten the gist of it.

“I was adopted, illegally, with a potion that changed my blood and my body. Now I’ve been given the antidote so that means this is what I really look, which means that my parents aren’t my real parents. I’m not really a Potter. Is that what you’re trying to tell me?” Harry managed to get out.

“Yes, I’m afraid so,” Healer Redfern nodded grimly.

“Then who am I? How did I get with my… with the Potters?” Harry questioned.

Did he even have the right to call them his parents now?

“That’s what we’re going to find out. Your blood or any of your direct relatives weren’t on file here at St. Mungos. It could be that your birth family isn’t from England or they could be from an older pureblood family. The older families tend to have their own private healers on staff, and don’t like coming to St. Mungos. So we’ve sent a blood sample off for a test through the Ministry. We’ve also sent for one through Gringotts in the event your parents aren’t from wizarding Britain. They keep extensive records, and have access to those outside of the UK. If your birth parents or another close relative has an account in Gringotts in any part of the world we will be able to find out who your biological parents are,” Healer Redfern informed him.

“So what happens now?” Harry asked, he didn’t bother asking what would happen if he

“Now we wait, and see the information that can be discovered and what can turned up through searching the Ministry and Gringotts’s records. The Aurors will be looking into your case. I’m sure they will be able to get to the bottom of things, and we’ll find out just who you are and how you ended up with the Potters. I’m afraid your fame will cause more people than is necessary to butt their noses into the situation. However, we’ll get everything sorted once we have more information,” Healer Redfern was equal parts apologetic and reassuring before leaving him alone to digest this information.

But Harry was not reassured. His entire world was crumbling down around him.

Harry had just discovered that he wasn’t the biological son of James and Lily Potter. It seemed like he’d only just gotten used to the idea of courageous James and Lily Potter being his parents. He’d spent his childhood with the Dursleys constantly hearing that his parents were no-good wastrels. It had been amazing to finally discover that his parents were actually heroes. They hadn’t died in a car accident caused by his father but had died facing off against the darkest wizard of the century.

Now Harry was back to not knowing anything about biological parents. He was back to not even knowing the names of his parents. Besides what was going to happen when they found out who his parents were? Harry’s heart rate sped up. What if they were still alive? What if he had living parents out there somewhere, and they had been looking for him all this time? What if they wanted him back? Could Harry actually have a family out there who wanted him?

Finding out he had a long lost family who wanted him had been a hope of his during some of the more difficult times at the Dursleys. But he hadn’t thought about that in long time. Not since finding out he was a wizard, making real friends, and learning more about his parents.

Now the long forgotten hope was rekindled no matter how much Harry tried to stamp it out again.

Afternoon had nearly passed into evening without any further news. Madame Ives brought him dinner, and even delivered his trunk. Apparently the agents of St. Mungos, who acted a bit like social workers, had apprised the Dursleys of the situation and his former relatives hadn’t even hesitated at the chance to finally be rid of him. They had easily signed away any rights to him the moment they found out he wasn’t really their nephew, and had helpfully packed all of Harry’s things and handed them over to the agent.

Harry wondered why Dumbledore hadn’t shown up yet. He must have not known about his predicament just yet. It was the only reason that Harry could think off as to why his headmaster wasn’t here. Harry wondered if he should have tried to get in contact with him for help. But what could Dumbledore do in this situation to help him?

Dumbledore couldn’t turn him back into Harry Potter. Dumbledore couldn’t help him hide it either. The employees of St. Mungos already knew about it, and Harry was sure it wouldn’t be long until everyone else knew about it as well. Healer Redfern had been right, considering who Harry was it wouldn’t be long before everyone else knew about what had happened to Harry. His time at Hogwarts had taught him just how quickly rumors could travel especially rumors about the Boy-Who-Lived.

Harry slept fitfully that night without anyone else coming to see him. His future was suddenly far too uncertain for him to fall into easy dreams.


	3. Chapter 3

The next morning Madame Ives dutifully brought him breakfast.

“Have you heard anything, Madame?” he questioned her as she set his breakfast tray beside his bed.

“I’m afraid not, Harry. The Aurors assigned to your case will most likely be by to talk with you. I think I heard the Minister may even stop by,” Madame Ives answered.

“Does everyone know then?”

“Oh, goodness no. However, your situation is quite a delicate one, and the Minister had to be apprised of it,” Madame Ives attempted to console him.

Harry was not consoled. “Does Dumbledore know?”

“I don’t believe so. I believe Headmaster Dumbledore is out of the country on other business at the moment. International Confederation of Wizards business I believe,” Madame Ives answered.

Harry felt himself wilt a little.

“We should be getting your results back from the Ministry and Gringotts soon. Healer Redfern put a rush on the order and I’m certain they’ll have the information by lunch,” Madame Ives patted his head, and left him alone.

Harry ate his breakfast slowly. He didn’t exactly have anything better to do. After breakfast he decided it was time to once more face his appearance. He headed into the restroom to shower. It was still utterly disconcerting to look into the mirror, and see a blonde head of curls topping the head of a handsome young man with sharp aristocratic features.

Harry did his best to push past the awkwardness, and tried to acquaint himself with his new form. Apparently this was his body. He was always supposed to look like this, and this was the way he was now always going to look. There was no going back now. Harry tried to learn how to familiarize himself with his body.

It was going to take some time. At the very least he wasn’t tripping over his own feet anymore, and he was growing more coordinated by the minute.

After his shower he spent some time looking over his face in the mirror. He made various expressions at himself trying to get a feel for it. Harry couldn’t quite put his finger on it but there was definitely something familiar about his new features. The longer he stared the more certain he became. He just couldn’t quite remember exactly where he had seen them before.

“At least I don’t need glasses anymore,” he murmured, trying to cheer himself up while staring into his pale gold eyes.

Eventually he pulled himself away from the mirror, and back into his hospital room. With absolutely nothing better to do he decided to pull out a few of his summer assignments. It felt like he had just barely finished with exams, and certainly didn’t want to be doing schoolwork but it was better than staring at the wall and obsessing over what his blood test with the Minister and Gringotts was going to turn up.

Besides he didn’t want to speculate about just how he had ended up with the Potters. The Familia Sanguini was illegal so he couldn’t imagine his ending up with them was exactly legal. But surely they couldn’t have kidnapped him.

Harry shook his head. This was why he had to work on his summer classwork. He was going to drive himself spare. The morning passed into afternoon. Madame Ives returned around noon to give him his lunch. They chatted for a bit, and when he asked her for an update she avoided the question by saying it was time for her to leave. Harry was certain she knew something now. She had said they would know something by lunch. But whatever they had found out she wasn’t eager to share with him.  

With no other options Harry turned his attention back to his summer work. He’d have it completely finished with a few days at this rate.

Harry was engrossed in his Charms essay when he heard the shouting from the hallway.

“Ma’am, you can’t go in there!” was yelled from what sounded like directly outside his door.

It was his only warning before the door was thrown open to reveal a beautiful witch with pale golden hair and pale gray eyes. Madame Ives stood behind them wringing her hands but neither Harry nor the woman paid any attention to her. In fact the blonde witch closed the door to Harry’s room on the nervous mediwitch as Harry slowly stood up from the chair he’d doing his summer work in.

With the door firmly closed Harry and his unexpected guest continued to stare at one another. The pale golden haired woman seemed to be drinking in his every feature.

Harry likewise was taking the silence that had fallen between them to more closely inspect her. Her pale gold hair was pulled up in an elegant twist. She wore beautiful and elaborate sky blue and silver robes that were obviously expensive. All of her features were pale, sharp, and lovely, and despite most likely being middle aged she didn’t have any lines marring her clear skin.

There was something achingly familiar about her, and Harry couldn’t help but notice that he now shared the same pale golden hair as she did.

Tears sprung to her pale gray eyes, and there was a fine trembling in her limbs as she continued to gaze at him.

“Er, hello,” Harry finally greeted when it became apparent the witch wasn’t going to.

“Hello,” she breathed in reply.

“Can I help you, ma’am?” Harry questioned, falling back on his manners in the face of this unexpected situation he’d discovered himself in.

“Forgive me, for barging in like this without any warning. The moment I heard I simply had to see you with my own eyes. It’s the only way I could know for certain this is truly happening,” she whispered, taking a hesitant step towards Harry.

Harry swallowed and his stomach fluttered. Just who was this woman?

“Now that I see you. There’s no denying it…” she trailed off, taking a deep breath, and visibly working to compose herself.

“Who are you?” Harry had an inkling of just who she might be but he needed to hear her say it.

She slowly approached him as if afraid he might bolt, and a part of him did feel like he might. He was afraid of what her next words were going to be. Yet he also anticipated them. The words she spoke were bound to change irrevocably change his future.

“I’m your mother,” she whispered once she stood only inches away from him.

Harry was about the same height as she was, and was able to look directly into her eyes so there could be no doubt she was telling him the truth. She tentatively reached out to cup his cheek with one perfectly manicured hand.

Harry’s heartbeat picked up speed, and he couldn’t quite help but to lean into her warm touch.

“I cannot believe you are truly here. All of these years we believed…” she swallowed.

“Believed what?” Harry murmured.

“We believed you were dead,” she then pulled him in to a tight embrace. She held him like she never wanted to let him go again.

No one had ever held Harry like that before or at least he certainly couldn’t remember it. Without his permission his own arms curled around the woman whose name he still didn’t know. It felt like the most natural thing in the world.

 

///

 

Narcissa Malfoy began her morning the same way she did every morning. She took a bath, neatly styled her hair, applied a small amount of makeup, and dressed in fine robes. Even if she had no plans on leaving the manor for the day she never dressed in anything but her best.

The golden haired witch always woke before her husband and son. Lucius didn’t have to be at the Ministry until three for a committee meeting. The newly former committee had been established to discuss restarting the Triwizard Tournament. Narcissa was glad that they had already decided on the stipulation that only students who were already seventeen would be able to participate in the tournament.

She didn’t need Draco even considering taking part in the awful competition. Her beloved would likewise not be awake any time soon. Draco had only been back from Hogwarts for a week now, and she thought he deserved to sleep in a bit before starting in on his summer lessons.

Narcissa made her way downstairs. She paused in their grand living room. The tastefully decorated silver and white room was used more for parties and guests than their own personal use. However, Narcissa made a point to stop in the room every morning before the rest of the house woke up. For in their grand living room hung the Malfoy Family Tapestry.

The tapestry had been a wedding gift from her own family, the Blacks, to Lucius and she. The Blacks had crafted the spells to create a self-updating family tapestry, and they refused to share the secret of it. However, they did deliver them as gifts to those families who married into their own.

Narcissa stopped before the elaborate tapestry, and easily found hers and Lucius’s names. With a feeling of familiar dread she traced down the line connecting their names with Draco’s, and only then did she allow her eyes to drift to the name directly beside Draco’s, Aurelius C. Malfoy.

The pain never went away. The guilt never went away. The only thing she could do was stop in front of the tapestry every morning to greet her lost baby boy, and whisper quiet words of love to him.

She blamed herself for Aurelius’s death. Her twin sons were a month old when Draco had come down with a case of yellow spotted fever. Worried over Aurelius catching the illness as well, she had decided to bring the younger twin to stay with her sister. Bellatrix had agreed to care for her young nephew. However, neither sister had been prepared for the unexpected raid the Aurors had set up. None of them had even realized that the Ministry knew of the Lestranges’ involvement with the Dark Lord.

Bellatrix had tried to get to her nephew but the fiendfyre a young Death Eater had foolishly conjured had made it impossible. Aurelius had perished. Lucius and Narcissa lost their son, and Draco lost his twin.

Narcissa and Lucius had been honest when they reported their son’s death. They explained they had sent their son stay with his aunt and uncle due to their other son’s illness. However, they denied any involvement with Death Eaters, and there was no further inquiry conducted. The Ministry didn’t want to be held responsible for the death.

Narcissa blamed herself for her son’s death. She had been so nervous about her son catching a fever that Narcissa that she had removed him from the manor. Removing him from the manor had ended in his death. Lucius never blamed her, and tried to reassure her over the years. She couldn’t accept his forgiveness not when she would never forgive herself. This had caused her to be a bit more protective of Draco, and to spoil him a bit more.

Narcissa’s eyes settled on Aurelius’s birthdate, June 5th1980 before allowing her eyes to be inevitably drawn to her son’s date of death. The blonde witch’s heart leapt into her throat as her eyes landed on the empty space where Aurelius’s date of death should be. July 31st1980 should have been directly beside his day of birth where it had been for nearly fourteen years. Aurelius had died on the same day Harry Potter was born. Narcissa wondered if this was why Lucius had a natural dislike of the boy. Of course the incident with their house elf probably hadn’t helped matters, and neither did the animosity that had sprung up between the Potter boy and Draco.

Narcissa blinked a few times to ensure her eyes were not betraying her. When she opened her eyes again nothing had changed. Aurelius’s death date was still unexpectedly missing.

“Tweeny,” Narcissa called softly.

Her personal elf instantly popped in beside her.

“Lady Malfoy be calling Tweeny,” the prim little elf stated promptly.

“Yes, please go and wake Lord Malfoy, it is most urgent,” Narcissa commanded.

The elf nodded once and disappeared with a pop. Narcissa didn’t dare go to wake Lucius herself. She feared if she left the tapestry her son’s death date would return.

It didn’t take long before she heard Lucius’s tall, lean form padding up behind her.

“Narcissa, darling, what is wrong?” he questioned as he joined her.

“Look at the tapestry, Lucius. Look at Aurelius’s name, what do you see?” she spared a glance towards her husband.

He still wore his nightgown with only a robe thrown over the top.

Lucius’s pale blonde brows drew downward at her words, sympathy welling in his pale silvery blue eyes. “Narcissa…”

“Please, just look,” she pleaded.

Lucius sighed and obligingly turned to look. She carefully watched his expression as his eyes traced their way down to their youngest son’s name. Narcissa was gratified when Lucius’s eyes suddenly shot wide, his mouth dropping open.

“You see it too?” she grabbed hold of his arm.

“Someone must have tampered with the tapestry,” Lucius murmured.

“Who?” Narcissa demanded. “Lucius—”

Lucius straightened. “Narcissa, the tapestry has malfunctioned. One of the charms must have worn away. This doesn’t mean Aurelius is alive.”

“You don’t know that. I’ll owl my Aunt Cassiopea. She will be able to come and take a look at the tapestry. She would be able to tell us what’s happened. If Aurelius is…”

“Darling, please don’t get your hopes up. Aurelius is gone,” Lucius’s arm curled around her.

“Right, of course you’re right,” Narcissa stepped away from his warm embrace. “I apologize for waking you.”

“Nonsense, I am glad you did. This is a most unexpected development and I would not have wanted you to keep this to yourself. I know this time of year is difficult for you,” Lucius once more stepped up to her side. 

“For all of us,” she turned to face her husband.

Draco and Aurelius’s birthday was always a difficult time. They always celebrated it joyously for Draco’s sake but there was always that small part of her that was thinking about how Aurelius never got to celebrate his first birthday. Her sons’ birthday had already passed, and now they were rapidly approaching the date of Aurelius’s death.

A flicker of sorrow passed through Lucius’s eyes before he efficiently tucked it away. For the most part the two of them did not hide their emotions from one another. Their marriage was far too close for that. However, Lucius tended to try and hide his own grief over Aurelius’s death from her, worried he might worsen her guilt.

This time when Lucius enveloped her in his arms she returned the embrace. She had always found Lucius handsome and intelligent. Narcissa had been pleased when her parents arranged a marriage between the two of them. She knew he would make her a good and strong husband. Their marriage would be tolerable unlike some other pureblood marriages she knew of. Narcissa hadn’t been expecting to fall in love with Lucius, and she was certain he hadn’t been expecting to fall in love with her either.

“I will tell the elves to make a full breakfast this morning,” Narcissa reluctantly pulled herself Lucius’s embrace.

“I will go and get dressed, and I will join you shortly, my love,” he kissed her gently on the forehead.

Narcissa spared one last glance to the tapestry. She would still send a letter to her Aunt Cassiopea. There was obviously something wrong with the tapestry, and she didn’t know enough about the intricate charm work to determine what might be wrong with it. What other reason could there be for it to change in such a manner? Nothing else had changed on the tapestry.

Narcissa continued on with her morning. She enjoyed her morning breakfast with husband and son. After breakfast she penned a letter to her aunt inquiring about the tapestry. Perhaps, her dear great aunt might even decide to visit. The older witch was quite unhappy with all of the regulations against dark magic in Britain, and no longer lived within its borders and even refused to visit very often.

They had just sat down to lunch when an owl swooped in to land between her and Lucius. Narcissa instantly recognized the Ministry seal. Lucius accepted the letter from the owl, and quickly scanned the letter.

“Lucius?” Narcissa murmured worriedly when her husband froze.

His already pale complexion, paled further. Lucius’s eyes darted up to meet hers an unfathomable expression written across his face.

“Father?” Draco prompted when Lucius didn’t immediately respond.

“We have to go to the Ministry,” Lucius stood abruptly.

“What’s happened?” Narcissa felt a spike of fear wash through her.

Lucius handed her the letter. She quickly read her way through the letter. Narcissa only made it half way through before her hands began to tremble at what the contents revealed to her.

“Mother?” Draco’s voice was full of worry now. “What’s going on?”

“Your brother is alive. Aurelius is alive,” tears slipped down her cheeks.

“What?” Draco gasped.

“He’s been under the effects of the Familia Sanguini Potion,” Lucius answered succinctly.

“How?” Draco demanded.

Lucius straightened his already impeccable robes and a look of fierce determination settled on his sharp features. “That’s what we are going to find out.”

Draco wasn’t pleased about having to stay behind when something so momentous was occurring. However, he understood he couldn’t come with them for this.

“I am sorry I doubted you, darling,” Lucius murmured right before they stepped into the Floo.

“Let’s just go collect our son,” Narcissa smiled warmly at him before allowing her mask to settle firmly on her features.

At the Ministry they were greeted by Cornelius Fudge himself, and ushered into his office. The Minister of Magic was a nervous wreck, and Narcissa found herself quickly becoming irritated with his behavior. A Healer from St. Mungos and the head of the DMLE, Amelia Bones, were waiting in the Minister’s office for them.

Healer Redfern introduced himself and in a very professional manner explained the sequence of events that had led to the discovery of their son. They were given the results of the tests from both the Ministry and Gringotts as proof. The proof was definitely needed as the explanation they were given was completely outlandish. Narcissa certainly wouldn’t have believed it if the evidence was set directly in front of her.

“Harry Potter? Our son is Harry Potter?” Lucius hissed.

She laid a hand over her husband’s as a prompt for the man to calm himself. Lucius took a deep breath, and leaned back in the leather chair.

“How could this have happened?” Narcissa questioned calmly and collectedly, though inside she was a swirling inferno of questions.

“We are investigating. I have some of the best Aurors on the case,” Fudge rushed to share with them like a child expecting praise from a professor.

“The Aurors are looking through the records in St. Mungos as we speak searching for answers,” Healer Redfern informed them.

“Why St. Mungos?” Lucius leaned forward, eyes sharp.

Bones was the one to answer him, “At the moment it is the most likely lead we have. They are one of the few places legally allowed to store the Familia Sanguini, and it was the birthplace of Harry Potter. Your son’s death was thought to be the same day as Harry Potter’s birthday. I don’t believe that is a coincidence. It was also the day of the day of the raid on Lestrange Manor. Many injured Aurors were brought into the hospital. Perhaps an infant was brought in along with them but it wasn’t recorded, and in the chaos anything could have happened.”

“I see. Do keep us apprised of the situation,” Lucius commanded in the imperious tone he used when commanding others.

“Of course, Lord Malfoy,” Bones nodded tightly.

“Now, that we have settled that I would like to see our son,” Narcissa spoke up, she believed she had waited long enough.

“Lady Malfoy, there is paperwork for us to complete before—”

“I want to see my son,” she glared the Minister down.

“I will take care of the paperwork. Narcissa, will go to collect our son,” Lucius stated in a tone that brokered no argument.

“Of course,” the Minister stuttered under Lucius’s glare.

Bones sent the Minister an exasperated look. No doubt disgusted with how easily cowed he was by Lucius. Narcissa wondered herself how such a weak willed wizard had managed to become the Minister of Magic.

“You’ll send word to Draco, apprising him of the situation won’t you?” Narcissa requested of her husband. Her other son needed to be aware of what had occurred as soon as possible. Draco would need as much time as possible to process before they brought his twin home.

“I will,” Lucius nodded before refocusing his attention on the Minister, Bones, and the Healer.

She spared a moment to wonder how Lucius was feeling about this sudden revelation. Their son was alive, however, he was the Boy-Who-Lived. Narcissa didn’t care how complicated this would make their lives. She didn’t care that it would be a huge challenge for them to overcome the negative relationship Lucius and Draco shared with Harry Potter. Her son was alive. Everything else seemed inconsequential. They would be able to work through their differences. They finally had the chance to be the family they always should have been.

Narcissa would not see that chance squandered. She marched purposefully forward through the halls of St. Mungos towards the room number Healer Redfern had provided her with. The mediwitch tried to stop her, not knowing she had been given permission to enter. Narcissa ignored her and didn’t bother to stop to explain.

It had been nearly fourteen years since she had seen her child. She wasn’t going to let anything stop her now.


	4. Chapter 4

Harry wasn’t sure how long he and the unnamed witch, who was apparently his mother, embraced. It should have been awkward or uncomfortable hugging a virtual stranger but somehow it wasn’t.

Eventually they did have to part, and the two of them settled into the room’s chairs.

“So… you know about everything?” Harry questioned awkwardly, and then winced. Clearly she knew what was going on if she was here.

“Yes, Healer Redfern explained the situation to me and your father. They sent a letter to us this afternoon,” she smiled warmly at him.

“How did I end up with the Potters then?” Harry asked.

“That is something we do not yet know. The Aurors are still investigating, I’m afraid,” the golden haired witch frowned.

“Right, but you said you thought I was dead? Why? What happened?” Harry needed to know.

“I made a mistake,” she admitted looking directly into his eyes. “You have a twin brother, you see, and he came down with a nasty fever. I didn’t want you to catch it, and so I brought you to stay with my sister. However, my sister was discovered to be a follower of You-Know-Who, and her home was raided by Aurors while you were there. The house eventually caught fire from a stray spell. It was believed that you died in the fire, and it was confirmed by our family tapestry.”

“Family tapestry?” Harry’s head was spinning.

His aunt was one of Voldemort’s followers. He had a twin brother. His mother and father were both alive, and wanted him back.

“A self-updating family tree. It provides the dates of marriages, births, and deaths of our family,” she explained easily.

“And it said I died?”

“I believe now that it was because you were given the Familia Sanguini, which essentially did kill you and you were reborn as Harry Potter. When you were given the antidote the date of your death disappeared from the tapestry.”

“What happens now?” Harry questioned.

“First, I believe it’s time I introduced myself,” the witch smiled.

Harry regarded her expectantly. He recalled that she had so far avoided doing so, and hadn’t offered her name when Harry had first asked just who she was.

“My name is Narcissa Malfoy,” she introduced.

“Malfoy?” Harry managed to choke out. “As in…?”

“Yes, Lucius Malfoy is my husband and Draco is my son,” Narcissa answered staring at him steadily.

“So Lucius Malfoy is my father and Draco Malfoy is my brother?” Harry needed to clarify. His stomach was clenching with revulsion at the very thought of being related to Malfoy senior and junior.

“I know you’ve had your differences in the past,” Narcissa began.

“An understatement,” Harry muttered.

Draco Malfoy had been a prat to him and his friends since he first started Hogwarts. Harry had only had the misfortune to meet Lucius Malfoy a handful of times but each encounter had been quite unpleasant. The wizard was solely responsible for the disaster of the Chamber of Secrets in his second year. Harry had only seen him from afar last year when he had been trying to have Buckbeak executed for barely scratching Draco.

Harry couldn’t believe he could be related to them. He couldn’t accept that Lucius Malfoy was his father. He couldn’t accept Draco was his brother, his twin no less. Narcissa didn’t seem like she could be Lucius’s wife and Draco’s mother. She seemed far too kind for that.

Narcissa chuckled at Harry’s comment. “I think if you give them another chance you will find them to be quite different.”

“Really?” Harry raised one eyebrow skeptically.

“Truly, besides it will make things rather difficult living with one another if you’re not at least somewhat cordial to one another.”

“Right, living with one another,” Harry mumbled.

Not only was he closely related to the Malfoys but he was going to have to live with them. This was a scenario straight out of his nightmares. Narcissa didn’t seem terrible but the thought of having to live with Lucius and Draco made him want to go back to living with the Dursleys.

“I can’t imagine how all of this must feel, darling. Everything you’ve ever known torn away,” Narcissa gently laid her hand against his arm.

“It took me ages to learn how to walk again with my new form. Even my handwriting is a little bit different,” Harry confided.

He’d had no one else to confide in since waking up here, and Narcissa seemed so kind and actually seemed to care about what he had to say.

“Things will be difficult for a while, however, just know that I love you, and I will be there for you. You are my son, and I never believed I would have the chance to have you back. This is a dream come true for me. I would do anything for you,” she promised.

“Thank you,” Harry glanced down, feeling quite embarrassed by how much that statement affected him.

She squeezed his arm.

Harry tentatively returned his gaze to hers.

A smile flashed across her features. “Now would you like to know your name?”

“My name?” Harry frowned.

“Yes, the name your father and I gave you when you were born. Legally it is still your name,” Narcissa answered.

The thought that he might have a different name had never even crossed his mind.

“Will I actually have to use it?” Harry questioned.

“I’m afraid so, darling. Legally it is the name you are registered under, and you are going to have to use it. However, I promise it is a rather nice name or at least it’s a name I am rather fond of,” she smiled.   

“What is it?” Harry asked warily.

“Your name is Aurelius Cygnus Malfoy. Aurelius for your father’s mother. Her name was Aurelia and she is the source of those lovely golden eyes of yours. Cygnus was for my own father. Then of course you have the Malfoy surname.”

“Aurelius Cygnus Malfoy,” he tested out the name.

The fancy wizarding name definitely seemed to fit his new appearance. He couldn’t decide if he actually liked it or not. Harry supposed it was more along the lines that he didn’t want anything more of his to change.

“Not too bad, hmmm?” she smiled, obviously taking a great amount of pride in the name she had chosen for her son.

“I suppose,” he sent her a timid smile back, unwilling to hurt her feelings. This woman had thoughtfully and purposely given Harry that name when he was born. As much as he wasn’t a huge fan of the name it did still make him feel good that she had put that much thought into giving him the name.

“I think you’ll find—”

Whatever else she was going to say was cut short when the door to his hospital room opened. In stepped Lucius Malfoy. Harry instantly tensed, which was the only thing that made him realize just how relaxed he’d become in Narcissa’s presence.

One look at the tall, white blonde haired wizard was all the proof Harry needed to see that Lucius was indeed his biological father. The familiar features Harry had recognized in the mirror belonged to Lucius, which meant he also closely resembled Draco. Harry’s jaw was a bit squarer and more defined but there was no denying their relationship now.

The wizard was elegantly dressed and sported his snakehead cane just like the all the times they had encountered one another before. His silvery blue eyes were carefully taking in Harry’s new features. His eyes easily alighting on the features they now shared with one another before settling on Harry’s eyes. Something flickered through Lucius’s eyes as he caught sight of Harry’s eyes. But it was gone before Harry could decide what emotion it was.  

“Narcissa,” Lucius greeted, his slivery blue eyes softening as they alighted on the witch.

The look threw Harry off balance. He’d never seen an expression like that on the older Malfoy’s face before. The only encounters he’d had with the blonde haired wizard were when his eyes were filled either with malice or smugness.

The expression he had while looking at his wife was tender.

“I’ve explained everything we know so far to Harry,” Narcissa patted his arm.

“Of course,” Lucius inclined his head and turned his gaze back to assessing Harry.

“I think a reintroduction is order,” Narcissa announced. “Harry meet Lucius Malfoy your father. My husband I am pleased to introduce our son, Aurelius. Although, at the moment I believe he still prefers Harry.”

“I do,” Harry agreed quietly. Harry had to admit that he was surprised by her consistently calling him Harry. He thought they would try forcing his new/old name on him as soon as possible.

Lucius took a deep breath, and walked towards where the two of them were sitting. “It is a pleasure to see you again, my son.”

The pale haired wizard stuck out his hand to shake. It gave him flashbacks to first year when Draco had offered him his hand to shake.

Not knowing what else to do with the two adults looking at him so expectantly Harry reluctantly shook Lucius’s hand. “You too, sir.”

An unknown emotion flitted across Lucius’s features as Harry called him sir.

“I have completed all of the necessary paperwork. We are free to take our son home now,” Lucius announced.

“Wonderful,” Narcissa smiled warmly.

Wonderful. Harry wasn’t exactly looking forward to going to live with Draco and Lucius in the slightest.

How many more weeks until Hogwarts started?


End file.
